Science and Saviors
by dysprositos
Summary: AU. Loki took a small detour before commencing Operation: World Domination. He made a quick stop in India to pick up a certain physicist who came highly recommended by the newly-subjugated Dr. Selvig. Bruce has no idea how he ended up in this situation. And he has no idea how to get out of it.
1. Bruce Banner is Too Old to be Kidnapped

**This was going to be my fic for the Marvel Bang, but it didn't come together in time. As it is, it's only about 80% complete.**

**My beta, irite, is the best.**

**I need to stop writing AUs. But at least it's an opportunity to address a few of the science mistakes in the movie...or at least, to try to.**

* * *

Bruce wasn't entirely sure how it had happened.

Okay, he knew exactly how it happened. What he couldn't figure out was 'why.' Why _him_. Sure, he had that special brand of Bruce Banner Bad Luck, but really. This seemed a little extreme, even for that. As of late, his bad luck tended to be something like needing to go across town in the rain or misplacing his only pair of glasses for two weeks. But this? This was a whole new category of crazy.

He'd been in India, minding his own business, trying to clear up an outbreak of what he _really _hoped was food poisoning (and not something worse), when they'd come for him.

Not Ross. Not the US government. Not any government at all. No, someone else. Someone—incredibly—worse.

He called himself 'Loki.' Hell, maybe he really _was _Loki. Bruce didn't think he got a whole lot of room to question the believability of that sort of thing. After all, his 'condition' defied the laws of nature, so the existence of gods wasn't that far out of the realm of possibility, right? He could roll with that.

It was the whole 'world domination' thing that he took issue with.

Bruce had just finished checking on a patient and was washing his hands, scrubbing them with soap (because he had no desire to acquire food poisoning, thanks), when the wall next to him had exploded. Just, exploded. In a shower of dirt and stone, leaving a nice, new window looking out onto the dirty street below, which Bruce was sure was just what the doctor ordered for the occupants of these rooms.

That had been a surprise, and Bruce didn't like surprises. Didn't handle them particularly well. Especially _loud, violent _surprises. That sort of thing could get ugly quickly.

It didn't, though. Because in the last couple of years, Bruce had put a _lot _of work into control. His time in Canada had been productive, enough so that he had felt comfortable returning to major population centers. Because not only had he learned to stay calm and focused...he thought he'd learned how to manage the Other Guy. If he had to.

His first thought, then, hadn't been 'I need to calm down,' because he had that handled. Instead, it had been 'Is it Ross?' His second was, 'I'm cornered.' His third was, 'Turn around, stupid.'

He did. It wasn't Ross. But he _was _cornered.

Not by Ross and a platoon of his soldiers. No, it was, improbably, Erik Selvig. And a couple of other people. Most of them _looked_ vaguely military, but Bruce got the impression that they _weren't_. They looked too scruffy, too ill-kempt. Ex-military, then. Mercenaries, maybe, or something like that?

The guy who was clearly in charge and pushing his way through to the front, though, did not look military _at all_.

The people Bruce had been helping wisely stayed in the background, huddled down in fear. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see them inching towards a back bedroom. Bruce didn't blame them—he wanted to fade into the background about now, too.

The leader of the gang of goons stepped forward. Bruce wondered, briefly, what on _earth _this guy was wearing, before he spoke, "Dr. Banner, I presume."

The accent was strange, and not something Bruce could immediately identify. But the clothes were what was really throwing him. He just...couldn't...place them. The guy's outfit looked like a costume, except it also looked _functional_. Like it had seen actual battles. And that was...worrisome.

Almost as worrisome as the glowing spear clutched tightly in one hand.

Bruce _really _didn't like the look of that. Especially if that had been the cause of the exploding wall.

But he didn't panic. That wasn't going to be helpful, even if the spear _did _cause walls to explode. And this really wasn't the place to panic anyway. Instead, Bruce said around the lump in his throat, "Maybe. Uh, who's asking?"

"I am Loki, of Asgard. And I have come to enlist your aid. Dear Dr. Selvig," he nodded in Selvig's direction, "Seemed to think that you, amongst all his colleagues, may have some insight into the work, ah, _we _need to do."

Bruce took a moment to consider this. Loki. As in the Norse god? What were the odds of finding a Norse god in India? But there was definitely _something_ up with this guy. God or not, he had a brilliant blue spear and battle armor. That made him an unknown entity, and thus someone to be treated with caution.

As if Bruce was ever anything but cautious.

What could they possibly need _him _for? Selvig and Bruce hadn't worked together in about six years. And even then, their collaborations had been brief. So obviously whatever 'work' they were doing had something to do with gamma radiation or nuclear physics in general, things that Selvig would know Bruce was well versed in. But that didn't narrow it down much.

Quickly, Bruce tried to get a good look at Selvig. He looked...weird. There was no other way to put it. There was something up with his eyes, something strange. They were bright, unnatural, acid blue. And he wasn't...all there. Selvig was a brilliant man. The calm, vacant expression on his face was entirely uncharacteristic. What was going on? What had this 'Loki' done to him?

Loki was looking at him impatiently, Bruce realized. Given that he didn't want to annoy the guy with the spear, Bruce nodded once, slowly. "Is that what he said? Did he tell you anything _else_ about me?" He didn't know how much Selvig knew about his 'condition,' or how much of what he knew he'd divulged to Loki.

Loki smirked. "He was most forthcoming, I assure you. Although I must say, Agent Barton had the _truly _interesting information. Now, will you accompany me or not?"

Bruce didn't know who 'Agent Barton' was, but he assumed that it was one of Loki's companions. It was possible that some of them were American, maybe even government. Which meant that one of them might have access to the records Ross had on him. So. If that was true, it meant 'Loki' knew a _lot_.

"How did you find me?" Bruce asked, edging around the room, moving slowly. Maybe if he could jump out a window or something...that seemed like a good way to get out of this...

No, that was just stupid. He was going to have to face this.

Loki waved a lazy hand at one of his companions. "Barton. He had some insight into, how shall I say, locating that which prefers to remain hidden. You are not as well disguised as you think, Banner. Or perhaps he is just effective. Either way, here you are."

'Barton' had the same blue-eyed vacant stare that Selvig did, which was not reassuring.

"We should get moving, boss," Barton said. "I doubt we're the only people looking for Banner right now."

"Very well," Loki agreed amicably. "Banner. Come along."

"Um. No?" he tried. He hadn't said he was going to go with them. He had no idea what they were doing, but there was enough weird stuff going on here for him to want to stay as far away as possible. He did _not _get involved with weird stuff.

"I do not believe that was a request." Loki stepped forward, raising his spear.

Bruce cringed back, expecting to be blasted across the room, or stabbed, or something equally horrible that would trigger a transformation and _then _what would happen? There were a lot of people around, and if he lost it here, they'd all be in danger. And—

Loki tapped the tip of his spear gently but firmly against Bruce's chest.

For a moment, Bruce's vision was iced over in blue. But a wave of green rushed in to counter it.

Bruce braced himself, closing his eyes and waiting for the change, knowing that was inevitably what followed his vision greening over.

It didn't come. When he opened his eyes again, he was standing, looking up at the man who claimed to be a god, but still very much _himself._

Loki, though, looked angry. Furious, even. He tapped his spear against Bruce's chest again, harder this time.

That _hurt_. But the sharp pain was followed by the same flash of blue-green, and he was again left entirely as he had been. Except with a bruise blossoming in the middle of his chest.

Rather than wait for Loki to jab him again, Bruce asked, "Was that supposed to do something?"

Loki did not answer, opting instead to turn to Barton. He snarled, "What is the meaning of this?"

"I'm not sure," Barton answered honestly, entirely unfazed by Loki's ire. "It may be related to his, er, altered biology, sir."

_You think? _Bruce mused to himself. He was starting to get an idea what Loki had been attempting. The blue light that had traveled across his eyes wasn't so dissimilar from the strange blue glow emanating from the eyes of some (but not all) of Loki's companions. Whatever he'd done to them, he'd been trying to do to Bruce. And apparently, it, whatever _it_ was, hadn't worked.

The question was..._what _had he done to the others?

"Hmm..." Loki mused. "This _is _a setback." He looked at Bruce. "I don't suppose you plan to make this easy? Since I cannot, for whatever reason, compel you to accompany me." He sounded bored and maybe a touch annoyed.

"That really depends," Bruce answered, eying the spear carefully. He really didn't like the sound of that. 'Compel.' Seemed kinda...bad. "Are you...can you _make_ people do what you want them to?"

Loki shrugged. "So far? Yes. You are being very rude by resisting. And I am rather in a hurry."

_Bruce _was being rude? He wasn't the one who'd come in here, spear blazing, blowing up walls and _mind controlling _people. "What're you doing, exactly? What do you need me for?"

"I intend to conquer this realm," Loki stated, as if this were a _normal _goal. "To do so, I need a stable portal so that my army may traverse the cosmos and arrive safely in your realm. Dr. Selvig assures me it can be done with some work. And your assistance."

"Ah." Bruce frowned. He considered pinching himself to make sure he was awake and not having some bizarre curry-fueled dream, but the bruise he could feel forming on his chest seemed to negate that possibility. "Then, no, I don't intend to make this easy. Sorry." He was, at this point, about 96% sure this guy was nuts, and he didn't get involved with crazy people any more than he got involved with weird stuff.

It had kind of become his life's goal in the last year or so.

"I see," Loki said. "Well, I suppose it cannot be helped, then. You humans are so...difficult. Always making things harder than they need be, when you could spare yourselves such pain by simply submitting." He shrugged gracefully. "You _will _aid me. Dr. Selvig has need of you. And I must confess, I am rather intrigued by you at this point as well. I may yet find a more suitable use for you." He raised his spear again.

"You should know," Bruce threw out hurriedly, unsure what Loki was planning, "That, uh, that might not go so well. For anyone. You don't want to make me angry." He'd been keeping a pretty solid lid on things for the last five minutes or so, but he couldn't really guarantee what would happen if Loki started blowing things up or something.

"You're right, of course," Loki acknowledged. "Partially, at least. I do not want you angry _now._" He paused. "Now, I want you to _sleep_."

He waved his spear in a wide, graceful arc.

And then...Bruce slept.

He was unconscious before his knees hit the ground.

* * *

When Bruce woke up, he was lying on a cot jammed up against the wall in a dark, depressing, dank room.

_And other 'd' adjectives you'd like to throw in there_?

_Damp?_

_Okay, stop. It's not _that _bad._

He didn't know where he was—aside from apparently underground if the light was anything to go by—but he was fairly annoyed. Not angry. He wouldn't let himself get angry, not until he knew where he was and what the hell was going on. But he was definitely annoyed. Damn it, he'd been _fine _in India. He'd been doing his thing, helping people, he'd been 'incident free' for _months_. He'd had something approaching a normal life, if living in a slum outside Calcutta could count as 'normal.' It did for a fairly largish portion of India's population. So yeah. Normal.

And now? Now he'd been kidnapped by a _god, _apparently, and taken who knows where for who knows what purpose.

Except he _did _know the purpose. He was apparently being recruited to build an interdimensional portal or something. A few years ago, he would have laughed at the idea. But from what he'd read in the journals, and what he'd managed to scrounge up online (he'd made his way to the library in Calcutta more than once since he'd settled in), that wasn't so far fetched. Jane Foster had been working on this very issue, had made some really extraordinary progress towards that goal. But for it to actually _happen_?

_Is that actually possible? The amount of energy that would take is...incalculable. _

"Good, you're awake," came a voice on Bruce's left. He sat up quickly, trying to ignore the pain from the stiff muscles in his back.

_I am too old to be kidnapped_.

The speaker was the guy Loki had identified as 'Agent Barton.' He still had the glowing blue eyes, which was disheartening (because, Bruce suspected, that meant he was currently press-ganged into Loki's service), but he seemed cheerful enough despite it.

"You've been out for hours," Barton continued, bustling around the room. "The boss thought it'd be best if you didn't wake up 'til we were back in the States. Didn't think you'd do too good on an airplane."

Bruce cleared his throat, noting that he was probably thirstier than he'd ever been in his life. "Where are—"

Barton thrust a bottle of water at him. "Drink up. You hungry?"

Taking the water, Bruce answered, "Yeah." Starving, actually.

Barton tossed a granola bar at him. Well, beggars can't be choosers, right? Bruce opened it and took a bite. He chewed for a moment before trying again, "Where are we?"

"Can't tell you that," Barton answered, standing at attention, watching Bruce eat.

Nothing weird about that at all. Bruce set the granola bar aside. "Can't, or won't?"

"Can't," Barton said, almost cheerfully.

"Anything you _can _tell me?" Bruce asked. It'd probably be easier that way, than asking random questions.

Barton considered this. "Not really. The boss wants a word with you, though."

That was unfortunate. Bruce had no interest in conversing with someone who apparently frequently used mind control, blew things up, and could put him to sleep just by saying the word. In fact, that seemed like someone it would be best to avoid.

But here, in this dark, damp, depressing, damp hole in the ground, did he really have a choice? They could be under Los Angeles, for all he knew. Or New York. There could be millions of people above them, and he didn't want to risk anything until he knew for sure. Sure, he'd been practicing, learning control. Sure, he _thought _he _might _be able to handle it. But that was only if he transformed on his own. If it was forced, who knew what would happen? No, he had to play it carefully until he knew more.

And that unfortunately meant he was going to have to talk to Loki.

Bruce unwrapped the rest of his granola bar and shoved it in his mouth. He chewed quickly, then washed it down with the rest of the water. Best to get this over with quickly. "All right, let's go."

As Barton led him through the twisting and turning corridors, Bruce tried to get a feel for where he was. There were no overt signs, though. It was dark, and more or less quiet, except for the sound of boots on the hard-packed ground. The few people they passed on their journey were well-armed. Mercenaries, or paramilitary.

Bruce didn't _like _the military, on principle. And when they were being mind-controlled by a guy claiming to be a god? That was worse.

_What did you get yourself into _this _time, Banner?_

Okay, maybe it wasn't fair to get annoyed with himself. He'd been _kidnapped_. It wasn't like he'd agreed to come along. He wanted nothing to do with this situation. For once, this wasn't his own fault. Loki—whether he was a god or not—was clearly crazy. Anyone aiming for world domination was insane, that was a historical fact. The fact that he'd clearly managed to get some sort of a following (not _everyone_ here had the blue-eyes-of-servitude thing going on) didn't make Loki any less crazy. It just made him powerful.

Crazy and powerful was a bad, bad combination.

After a few more turns, Barton led Bruce into a larger room. Selvig was there, in an area cordoned off by glass, working on some sort of device. He was directing a couple of other scientists—at least, they wore lab coats—but seemed to be doing most of the heavy lifting himself. Barton ignored him, though, and led Bruce off to one side of the room. "Hey boss, Dr. Banner's up."

Loki had been leaning casually against a concrete pillar, watching Selvig work. Now he turned to Barton. "I see that. You may go."

Obediently, Barton turned and walked away, presumably to take care of some other task. Or to power down until Loki needed him again; Bruce wasn't sure how this mind control thing worked.

"Dr. Banner," Loki said, "It is good you are back with us. I do believe Dr. Selvig is ready for you."

"Uh, yeah. But. I have a couple of questions."

"As do I." He considered Bruce carefully. "Perhaps you could tell me why you are not susceptible to external influence."

"You mean, why can't you mind control me?" Loki was going to get right to the point, apparently.

Loki nodded. "Yes. If you must be so vulgar about it."

Bruce gave a stiff shrug. "I think it's kind of obvious. The Other Guy...he's not so easy to control."

"The monster, you mean," Loki clarified. "That lives inside of you."

And he accused _Bruce _of being 'vulgar.' "Yeah."

Loki made a thoughtful noise. "And yet you seem to do a passable job of it."

This conversation, Bruce decided, needed to stop. He didn't want Loki within ten miles of the Other Guy, literally or figuratively. "I've had practice. So. Um, Loki, right? Like the god?"

With a nod, Loki answered, "I suppose it may seem that way to...inferior beings."

"And you're here...why?"

"I believe I have explained that already."

He had. Bruce had just been hoping that the whole 'world domination' thing had been a joke or a delusion or something. "Right. Sure." He paused. "Why should I help you?" The unspoken question: _why don't I just bust out of here_?

"Well," Loki began, almost idly, "Some of these people—Barton and Selvig, to begin with—are 'innocent,' as you might say. They have not willingly aided my cause. It would be a shame if they were to come to harm, yes? You wouldn't want to risk that, I'm sure."

Unfortunately, Loki was right. Bruce _didn't _want to risk that. Loki might be threatening them, might be saying 'if you don't help me, I'll hurt them.' Or he could just mean that this place didn't seem all that structurally sound. Just letting the Other Guy out might be enough to bring the roof down. If Loki started shooting things with his spear, that could do it easily. And would the Other Guy know the difference between 'friend' and 'foe?' Bruce liked to think so, but he couldn't _know_.

So he couldn't just bust out of here. If he was going to let the Other Guy out, it'd have to be either above ground, or once this underground hideout had been evacuated.

Bruce nodded. "You're right."

"I know. Now. Do as you're told, and perhaps everyone can come out of this alive." He shrugged. "It is of little matter to me, but you humans are so sentimental."

With that, he was gone, striding off down the corridor that Bruce had just come from.

Bruce sighed. It wasn't a lot of incentive. But it was enough. Right now, Loki held the upper hand. Until he _didn't_, Bruce knew he had to keep his head down, keep a firm grip on himself, and learn as much as he could about this project so that, if it came down to it, he had the information to _stop _it.

Right now, that looked like about all he _could _do.

* * *

**Comments and reviews are always appreciated.**


	2. Bruce Banner is Not Especially Crafty

**Thanks to my beta, irite, for being awesome, as always.**

**Warnings: science, puns, Selvig/Tesseract/Truth, Bruce Banner's low self-esteem.**

* * *

Bruce was quickly considering his life choices (_What the hell should I do now?_) when, out of nowhere, Agent Barton reappeared next to him.

"Better get to work, Dr. Banner," he advised. It didn't sound like a threat, but the fact remained that Barton was a. heavily armed and b. mind controlled. His very presence was a threat.

So Bruce nodded. "Sure. Uh, is there a deadline on this that I should know about?" He didn't want to put Loki's crazy world domination scheme behind schedule, after all. And he wanted a little bit of information on when this was supposed to go down. Every bit of information he could gather might be useful.

Barton just shrugged, though. "It'll be done on time."

Clearly, he didn't have a lot to say on the matter. Bruce sighed. Mining the mind-controlled guy for information didn't seem like it was going to be especially fruitful. Well, maybe he'd have more luck with Selvig, even if he was mind controlled, too. Getting a feel for their project would at least give him an idea what he was dealing with. Bruce was pretty smart, he could get a lot from context clues.

Bruce approached Selvig carefully, ignoring the other 'scientists' and maneuvering around the improvised glass walls. The man looked, if possible, worse than he had when they'd been in India. The dark circles under his eyes were pronounced in the dim lighting, and it was clear that it had been some time since he'd slept. Or bathed. Well, Bruce couldn't judge—he wasn't really the pinnacle of cleanliness right now, either. Still, given Selvig's strung-out appearance, Bruce thought caution was the best course of action.

"Dr. Selvig," he said, when he was about ten feet away.

"Dr. Banner!" Selvig returned enthusiastically, turning to Bruce, bright, blue eyes slightly unfocused. "It's so good to see you!"

Selvig, apparently, wasn't too put off by the circumstances of their meeting. And wasn't suffering for his lack of rest. Bruce decided to roll with it. Like he had a choice. "Er, how are you?"

"Wonderful!" Selvig answered.

Bruce had doubts about that—Selvig looked terrible—but he didn't voice them. Instead, he said, "That's great. And, uh, how's it going?" He gestured at the device Selvig had been building.

Now Selvig frowned. "Not as well as I had hoped. The Tesseract has told me so much, and yet," he waved a frustrated hand, "Not enough." He looked up at Bruce. "We need your help."

Bruce took a few steps closer to the device, peering at its components and trying to remember what he'd read in Foster's papers. So much of the science was still theoretical, though, that she hadn't actually proposed a _design _for a machine capable of opening an interdimensional portal. That sort of thing would have gone to the engineers, anyway, so the fact that Selvig had built this at all was...odd.

Also, Bruce didn't know what the 'Tesseract' was (aside from, probably, a cubic prism—that's what a 'tesseract' was) but it didn't sound like something he wanted to get mixed up with. But then, none of this did. So he asked, "The 'Tesseract'?"

Selvig nodded enthusiastically. "It's truth, Banner." He gestured to a nearby table, on which a glowing blue cube sat in a metal case, looking innocuous. "It's everything."

It looked more like a movie prop or something, but Bruce didn't say that. If this thing was 'telling' Selvig how to build something capable of opening an interdimensional portal, it was clearly powerful. Or Selvig was insane. Which was also possible. Still, he wasn't going to start slinging insults.

Bruce took a few steps closer to the table, narrowing his eyes against the bright blue glow. When he was within arm's reach, he stretched his hand out.

"It's emitting gamma radiation," Selvig spoke up behind him.

Bruce snatched his hand back to his side. It probably wouldn't hurt him, but he wasn't taking any risks. And gamma rays were something he didn't mess around with anymore. "What _is_ this thing?"

"An energy source," Selvig answered simply. "Among many other things. It contains enough energy to open and sustain the portal that Loki needs, more energy than anything else on this planet could produce. But it's unstable."

Oh, that sounded fantastic. Sounded just like something Bruce wanted to be standing next to. He took a pointed step back. "Right." He turned to Selvig. "Why'd you drag me into this? What do you expect me to do here?"

He was trying to not sound bitter, or angry, but he _was _getting kind of annoyed. More annoyed than he already had been, about the whole being kidnapped and roped into Loki's Army thing. And now he was standing next to a massively powerful yet unstable object that was throwing off gamma rays.

His annoyance, Bruce thought, was justified.

"The Tesseract is emitting gamma radiation," Selvig repeated, in response to Bruce's question. "As long as it does so, it makes the cube easy to track. We're under a couple feet of concrete down here, so we're fine, but as soon as we go above ground, it'll be an issue."

Well, that was true enough. GPS satellites with x-ray detectors could track the gamma rays easily enough. Bruce nodded, encouraging Selvig to continue.

"Loki needs this to remain a secret until he's ready to act. So we need to shield it once we're up there."

Bruce snorted in disbelief. "Stick it in a lead box. A big one. Problem solved. What, the 'Tesseract' didn't tell you that?"

"Hell," he went on, "You're a physicist, you should know that on your own."

So much for not getting angry. Bruce took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Not only had he been kidnapped to do some kind of supervillain science, it was insultingly _simple _supervillain science. And now he was part of Loki's little task force, for what? For nothing. He didn't need to be here at all.

Selvig was unfazed by Bruce's little outburst. "Of course I thought of that." He sounded almost offended, but whether that was about the slight to his intelligence or the Tesseract, Bruce wasn't sure. "But it's not going to work."

Bruce raised an eyebrow. "Uh...why not?" Of course it would work, the laws of physics dictated that it would.

"The Tesseract didn't like it when I tried to contain her."

Now Bruce was really getting irritated. He wasn't in the habit of asking inanimate objects what they liked or didn't, or assigning them genders. And he wasn't accustomed to hearing world-renowned physicists act like non-living entities had opinions. So he frowned. "The Tesseract 'didn't like it.'" Despite his best efforts, his annoyance leaked into his voice.

But, as it turned out, it was irrelevant, because Selvig was mind-controlled or something and thus not the most observant.

"I tried," Selvig explained, indicating a large area of blackened, burned floor about twenty-five feet away. "It didn't take."

Huh. "And, um, what did Loki say about that?"

"He asked me to find someone who could help. I suggested you."

Apparently, an inanimate object expressing opinions was not something Loki found particularly unusual. But then, Loki had a magic spear and could mind control people. He probably didn't find _much _unusual.

Bruce didn't know how much help he'd be, in this new world he'd discovered where magic was apparently a thing and everyone seemed okay with that. But no one had asked his opinion, and he'd been kidnapped, and his very presence was threatening the lives of everyone within a few miles' radius, so he had to cooperate, even if he was awash in disbelief. He furrowed his eyebrows. "I see. And, uh, what do you propose I do? 'Cause this is kind of crazy." Without Loki breathing over his shoulder (and Barton and his gun safely across the room), Bruce felt free to be a little more forthright. Selvig might be mind controlled, but he wasn't wielding a spear or a gun.

"You know gamma radiation better than anyone. If there's a solution, you'll think of it."

Vague. Wonderful. He had _nothing_ to go on, then. "Look, I'm a physicist, not an engineer. I _might _be able to come up with something, but it's not going to be pretty—"

Selvig gestured to a different table than the one on which the Tesseract was sitting. "You'll need more information. Everything we have is there."

Bruce sighed. He'd stated his own uselessness pretty plainly, and that hadn't fazed Selvig at all. Maybe they were expecting him to be useless. But then, why bring him in? Why take the trouble of bringing him all the way here?

Slowly, he approached the table Selvig had indicated, glancing quickly at the haphazard stack of files.

He sat down and started to read.

No one disturbed him while he worked, which Bruce appreciated. He didn't know if it was out of respect for his scientific process or because everyone in the area had been informed of his 'condition,' but either way, he was left alone, despite the constant flow of lab coats in and out of the area. Selvig tweaked his device, muttering to himself, and Bruce tried to think up a way to do what these people wanted him to do.

He started by examining the Tesseract. He was reluctant to get too close, since it (she?) was apparently temperamental, but there was a pair of tongs next to the case, and Bruce used those to prise the cube from its home and look at it more closely. It was a cube, glowing swirling blue, but it didn't look like anything much.

If it contained as much potential energy as Selvig seemed to think, it would probably have to be activated somehow.

But that wasn't Bruce's job. His job was to find a way to block the gamma rays it was emitting from detection. And apparently throwing it into a lead box wasn't an option. Because it 'didn't like' that.

There were other ways to block gamma rays, but if the lead box wasn't to the Tesseract's liking, probably none of those other things would be as well. So Bruce started thinking outside the box, as it were.

It occurred to him, after some time, that if GPS satellites could be used to track the Tesseract, then perhaps the secret wasn't to shield the Tesseract, but to disable the satellites. Of course, doing so was beyond his capabilities—beyond just about _anyone's _capabilities—but as far as solutions went, it was about all he had.

That figured out, he turned at least part of his attention to gathering information about his location and about what the other people around him were doing. The area around him was crowded, filled with people and large crates that contained, Bruce figured, weapons. It looked like they were in some kind of military storage area or something, which didn't bode well—what had happened to the people working here?

Bruce found that if he craned his neck, he could see around the nearby support pillars and catch glimpses of other people—armed, mostly blue-eyed—but he didn't want to draw attention to himself by looking around too much.

It had been about two hours since he started working when Barton approached.

Bruce looked up, but Barton didn't have anything to say. He just set a bottle of water and a couple of granola bars on the table before marching over to Selvig and holding up some kind of tablet computer. "This the stuff you need?"

Selvig glanced at the screen. "Yeah. Iridium. It's found in meteorites, makes antiprotons. Very hard to get ahold of."

Barton smirked. "Especially if SHIELD knows you need it."

"I didn't know _I _needed it," Selvig replied, eyebrows raised.

Bruce frowned. What on _earth _could they need antiprotons for? If Selvig didn't even understand what he was doing, that didn't bode well for the project.

He sighed and opened the water, taking a small sip and rubbing at his temple. This wasn't at all how he'd been planning to spend his day, and even though everything was fairly quiet at the moment, he couldn't ignore the fine, shining wire of stress that was running straight through him. He could pretend all the wanted that he was in his lab at Culver or someplace equally safe, but the fact remained he'd been abducted and pressed into working for a crazy guy going after world domination. With...antiprotons.

If that wasn't cause for stress, what was?

As if summoned by Bruce's thoughts, the 'crazy guy' in question appeared, swooping in from one of the many side passages in this underground hideout. He approached their work area slowly.

To Bruce's eyes, Loki looked...strained. But then, he was currently in the midst of taking over the world. A little stress seemed normal, in those circumstances.

Bruce snorted a small laugh to himself. Seemed like everyone was a little tense around here. Well, everyone who wasn't currently mind controlled, anyway.

Selvig dropped what he was doing and approached Loki, as did Barton (who'd been pacing the area for the last few hours; Bruce got the impression he was on Tesseract babysitting duty).

Since he hadn't been explicitly summoned, Bruce stayed where he was. He didn't want to draw Loki's attention to himself, which probably wouldn't bode well for anyone. Especially Bruce.

Selvig greeted Loki as if they were old friends, expression both reverent and somehow vacant. "The Tesseract is showing me so much. It's more than just knowledge, it's... truth."

Loki nodded. "I know." Bruce got the impression this wasn't the first time Loki had heard this. It wasn't the first time Bruce had, after all, and he had been here for considerably less time than Loki. To Barton, Loki asked, "What did it show you, Agent Barton?"

With remarkable energy (considering he looked just as terribly worn down as Selvig), Barton answered, "My next target."

That didn't sound good.

This was confirmed when Loki said, pleased, "Tell me what you need."

Purposefully, Barton grabbed a...bow? What the hell? out of a case perched on top of a stack of crates. "I'll need a distraction. And an eyeball."

Loki grinned. "Splendid. I am certain something can be arranged." He turned to Bruce. "And you? How goes your project?"

Bruce shrugged, uncomfortable under Loki's eyes. But then, because he apparently didn't know how to keep quiet, he blurted out, "Look, I'm not sure what you want me to do. If this thing," he gestured at the Tesseract, "Can't just be contained, then there's not much you can do to mask the radiation. Unless..." he hesitated, unwilling to divulge his idea to someone who was quite likely insane. But then, scrambling satellites was tricky business, and Loki probably couldn't do it. If he gave a solution, however improbable, it might buy him more time to gather information. Or to plan a way out of this.

"Yes?" Loki asked, patiently.

"Uh, well. The Tesseract can only be tracked via satellite. But if you scrambled the signal from the satellites, it might buy you some time."

Loki cocked his head to one side. "That can be done?"

"Sure," Bruce answered. "If you've got someone from NASA or something here, I don't know. In theory, yes."

Loki nodded. "Very well. Thank you, Dr. Banner." He turned and walked away. Before he left, though, he threw over his shoulder, "Barton, Banner, see that you are ready to depart in half an hour. We have an engagement to attend."

Then he was gone.

Leaving Bruce frowning in his wake. "What the hell was that?" _Could _Loki scramble the GPS satellites? Was he going to try?

Neither Selvig nor Barton answered. In fact, they both ignored him entirely. Barton placed his bow back in its case and started packing up some other gear. Selvig moved back to his device.

Ugh, mind controlled people. Terrible for getting information. If he was more confrontational, he might have demanded that one of them answer him, but that wasn't his style. No, he'd just have to keep watching. Waiting. Wondering. Worrying.

And now he had something new to worry about. Bruce had no idea where Loki was going in half an hour, and he had no desire to accompany him. But, given his current state of 'I have no idea what's going on' it didn't seem like he had much of a choice. If he tried to resist, Loki could just put him down for a nap and take him wherever, anyway. He gave a frustrated sigh. He was still clueless, still powerless, and still entirely at Loki's whim. And he'd just told the psycho how to go about avoiding having anyone track his dangerous, unstable, portal-opening power source.

Which meant that if anyone _was _tracking it, Bruce had just foiled their efforts. Didn't that make him an accomplice to Loki's plan?

Screw that. He wasn't Loki's accomplice. He'd just been doing what he had to do to avoid any trouble, at least until he knew what he was up against. He wasn't helping Loki because he wanted to, he just didn't really have a _choice_.

It wasn't like Loki had _asked _before kidnapping him and bringing him here. No, Loki had just knocked him out and carted him off, after vaguely hinting that...

Oh.

Suddenly, Bruce felt a little bit like he was going to throw up. Or a lot. In fact, bile was climbing up his throat at an alarming rate.

Because he'd just remember what Loki had said, just before he'd been knocked out. Bruce had said that he didn't think that Loki want to make him angry. To which Loki had replied...he'd said that he didn't want Bruce angry _now_. He'd also said something like...he'd find a better use for him than whatever Selvig needed. Because he was 'intrigued.'

And now Loki was planning on taking him to an 'engagement?'

Bruce could have kicked himself. How could he have forgotten that? He'd been a little distracted, sure, but forgetting that the megalomaniacal god-wannabe was apparently planning on throwing him at his enemies? That was kind of a big deal.

So not only had he helped Loki hide the Tesseract, he was going to, what? Bruce didn't even know what Loki might be planning. The guy was nuts. But he knew what Bruce was, and he'd indicated that he intended to use Bruce in _some _capacity and...that couldn't happen.

Maybe...maybe he could get out of here. Escape. Do it carefully, quietly, without letting the Other Guy out. He'd already helped Loki enough. He didn't need to stick around and wait for Loki to set him off. Bruce had no doubts that he _could_. Loki could blow up walls and mind control people (although not him, thank god) and put people to sleep with a word. Loki was unpredictable. Violent. Exactly the kind of person Bruce needed to avoid.

And maybe, if he got out of here, he could find the 'good guys' and tell them what he knew, about the portal and the army that Loki thought was going to come through it. Maybe stop this whole thing before it happened.

Planning quickly, Bruce headed towards the corridor that Loki had just disappeared down. It wasn't a good plan—terrible, actually—but his recent revelation put a new layer of urgency on this. He wasn't going to be Loki's puppet. He couldn't let that happen.

Bruce made it approximately two steps down the hall before someone grabbed his wrist, hard, and wrenched it.

This effectively stopped his movement, but it didn't do much for the anxiety that had been thrumming through him since Loki had blasted through that wall in India. In fact, it actually caused his heart rate to spike.

"You need to stay in this area, Dr. Banner," Barton said, his tone flat, but not at all hostile, as if twisting Bruce's hand nearly to the point of breaking was a friendly greeting.

Bruce found the contradiction a little hard to deal with. Also, the pain in his arm made communication a little tricky. Still, he managed, "Uh, okay. Sorry. Sorry. I was looking for a bathroom." He'd figured Barton would stop him, but he'd been desperate. The lie was the best he could do.

And apparently, it was enough for someone who was mind controlled. The pressure on his wrist was removed, and Barton was suddenly in front of Bruce, leading the way down the hall. "This way. It's a bit of a walk."

Rubbing his wrist, Bruce followed him down the hall. Barton's reaction to his wandering meant that Bruce was, at least in Loki's eyes, still a 'prisoner' and not an 'accomplice.' Probably, he was more like a 'weapon' than either a prisoner or accomplice.

Bruce wondered, if he ever found the 'good guys,' if they would be that discerning.

* * *

**Thanks for reading!**

**Review if you're so inclined.**


	3. Bruce Banner Needs to Use the Restroom

**Thanks to my beta, irite, for being ever so helpful and generally awesome.**

**I'm pleased to report that I've managed to more or less write the end of this story. It's going to be five chapters total.**

**Warnings: mild violence.**

* * *

The bathroom was rather rustic. In fact, 'bathroom' was kind of a generous description for the room. While it may have at one point been a bathroom, those days were gone forever. Nowadays, it was more like...a hole in the ground.

Splendid.

Bruce glanced over at Barton, who'd walked him all the way here and was now standing, back against the wall, across from the door. Clearing his throat, Bruce muttered, "I, er, might be a while." He needed to do some thinking, away from the watchful eyes of Loki's mind-controlled minions. And if this disgusting bathroom was the only place he could find some privacy, well, he'd take it.

Barton shrugged, indifferent. "That's fine." Then he cocked his head slightly to the side. "But we're leaving in half an hour, whether you're done or not."

Damn it. Of course he wasn't going to just go back to watching Selvig. It'd been stupid to think he would. He was going to wait right there, for a full half hour, if he had to.

Which both made it impossible to escape and put a severe limit on his planning time.

Slumping a little, Bruce went into the bathroom.

Trying his best to ignore the smell, he did his business quickly before crossing to the other side of the room and leaning against a mostly-clean wall. At least, he hoped it was mostly clean; there wasn't much light to work with down here.

He considered his options.

He could, of course, go quietly with Barton, and head back to his work area. Wait for Loki to come back and take him wherever, probably end up doing something awful. That wasn't really what Bruce wanted, for obvious reasons. He could try to sneak away, but with Barton acting like his shadow, that wasn't likely going to happen. The way Barton had grabbed his wrist earlier indicated that he wasn't really the kind of person you messed with, and Bruce had a lot of incentive not to mess with him, anyway. One wrong move on Barton's part, or one second of carelessness on Bruce's, and they could have a problem. A large, green one.

And then all kinds of innocent people could be injured or killed. Bruce didn't want that. Obviously.

So, really, no matter what he did, innocent people were going to get hurt.

Unless...he could go with Loki. Loki was going to get him out of this underground lair. Maybe once he was above ground, he could get away. Loki was going to be busy. So was Barton, from the sound of things. If Bruce waited until they were distracted...he might be able to vanish.

He was surprisingly good at that.

And he didn't have a lot of better options at the moment.

So he opened the door and headed back out into the hall.

Barton was exactly where Bruce had left him, and when Bruce reappeared, he gestured back the way they had come.

Bruce obeyed the curt gesture without a word.

The next several minutes were a flurry of activity. Barton was gathering up his gear, Selvig was packing up the device he'd been building, and all around them, people were clearing out the work area. It was clear that soon, probably right after Loki had left, this place would go back to being as abandoned as it had been before they'd showed up.

It seemed like a good idea to stay out of the way, so Bruce leaned against a column and watched the proceedings, cataloguing as much of the goings on as he could for future reference. He didn't know what information might prove useful later, if any, but if there was the slightest chance anything he saw could be used to help stop Loki, he wanted to be ready.

Too soon, though, Loki reappeared. He looked between Barton and Selvig, before addressing Bruce, "Do you intend to come with me of your own volition, Dr. Banner, or shall we arrange for you have another nap?" He lifted the spear held at his side slightly.

"Well," Bruce answered carefully, "If those are my options, then, uh, I'll come with you. Awake, I mean."

Loki inclined his head. "A wise choice." He looked at Selvig. "You understand your orders, yes? What you need to do?" Selvig nodded, and Loki nodded brusquely in turn. "You have your team. If you have any difficulties carrying out your duties, do not hesitate to contact me." Then he turned to Bruce. "Come, Dr. Banner." He turned on his heel and strode back the way he had come. Barton immediately followed, along with a gaggle of other mercenaries, and after a moment of hesitation, Bruce trotted after them.

He caught up with them easily enough, and Loki dropped back to walk next to him, much to Bruce's displeasure. The others continued on as if they knew exactly where they were going and why.

Probably, they did. Maybe Loki was using telepathy or something. Or their orders were so deeply ingrained that they did not actually require Loki's guidance to carry them out.

Either way, they marched on ahead, and soon Loki and Bruce were alone, listening to the sound of boots echoing in the hallway.

This was non-ideal.

"Where are we going?" Bruce asked, after several extremely long, uncomfortable seconds during which Loki did not speak.

"It is of little concern to you," Loki answered, almost distractedly. "You need only show up. You are...the guest of honor."

Bruce did not want to be the guest of honor. Anywhere. "Um. Okay. But where?"

Loki did not answer. His body language made it fairly clear he did not intend to—for all his efforts to appear at ease, the stiffness in his shoulders was unignorable. Bruce was well versed in reading other people. So much of his own survival depended on him knowing what to expect from others. And Loki was throwing off some very dangerous vibes. He was tense, and that kind of tension was unpredictable.

Bruce did not ask again.

Instead, he kept quiet as he followed Loki as he led him up several flights of stairs and through what felt like a mile of winding corridors. Eventually, though, they went through a door that opened up into a hangar. There were several old, unused planes and other machinery stored there, but Bruce didn't get a good look at any of it. It was too dark.

It was also very warm. And when they stepped out of the hangar, Bruce saw why. Sand in every direction. It seemed they were in the desert somewhere.

He didn't have much time to contemplate that, though, before Loki was hustling him into some kind of small aircraft and pushing him into a seat. And then they were taking off.

Bruce glanced around. The plane or whatever was chock full of people with guns, including Barton, who seemed to be manning the craft. Loki was seated across from where he'd put Bruce, his spear dangling idly in one hand.

_Well_, Bruce thought. _I'm not going to be escaping from _here_._

Loki eyed Bruce carefully. "I suggest you relax, Dr. Banner. It is, I understand, a rather lengthy journey to where we are going. You would do well to avoid tiring yourself."

Sighing, Bruce slumped back against his seat, rubbing a small circle above the bridge of his nose. _How _did he always get involved in this stuff?

* * *

Loki hadn't been lying. It _was _a long flight.

Something like nine hours, by Bruce's calculations. He wasn't sure how fast they were going, and thus couldn't judge the distance, but he knew they were going East, and that they'd gone over the Atlantic Ocean.

When they landed, he had no idea where he was. He looked out the window, but all he could see was an empty field. A vast, empty field, with the glow of a city on the twilight horizon. Not all that informative, really, but it was _something_.

He'd managed to get some sleep during the flight, despite the fact he was sitting across from a guy with a magic spear on a plane full of armed, mind-controlled mercenaries. Exhaustion sometimes didn't listen to common sense.

So at least he was _well rested _and had no idea where he was.

The plane landed with a jolt and taxied down the runway before coming to a stop.

When the engines cut off, Loki finally addressed Bruce. "I had thought that you would have accompanied me rather less willingly than you did, and so assumed you would be unconscious at this particular juncture." He paused. "Agent Barton and I have something to attend to and we do not require your aid. I am going to leave you in the scintillating company of a few of my assistants." He smirked. "Well. Perhaps it is not that interesting—I have found that they have little use for conversation—but you see, I cannot leave you unattended. My apologies, but I am sure you will understand." He stood, then, and exited the plane, followed by about half of the occupants, including Barton.

The other half stayed where they were, eying Bruce.

Well, this was an unexpected opportunity. Both Loki and Barton gone? Bruce hadn't expected that to happen. And now he was only being guarded by about five guys with guns.

_Only? 'Only' five guys with guns?_

Bruce marveled briefly at how his perspective had changed in a day. Then he stood up.

Immediately, all five men aimed their weapons at him.

He didn't seem to be getting any more accustomed to that, if the uncomfortable way his stomach rolled was an indication. "Calm down, guys. I've been sitting for nine hours, I just need to stretch. And, uh, pee." He looked around. "Bathroom?"

One of the men stood, tucking his gun back into its holster. "Come on."

Bruce was getting tired of using the bathroom excuse, but honestly, these mind controlled people didn't seem to think of that sort of thing _nearly _as often as they should. Well. They were probably all malnourished and dehydrated, judging from their appearances. The only thing keeping them upright was probably Loki's willpower, so they probably didn't have any waste to excrete.

The man led Bruce out of the plane and directed him to a grassy area about ten feet away, lit only by the light spilling out of the open door. "Go on." He stood, arms crossed, watching.

"Uh." That was awkward. And not at all helpful in terms of giving Bruce an opportunity to escape, though running off into the empty field seemed like a less and less intelligent idea the longer he thought about it. He didn't know where he was, he might just run into a whole swarm of Loki-supporters. Or into someone who knew who he was. And none of that could end well. He knew he was being...wishy washy, at this point, knew that he needed to get his crap together and _do _something, but he didn't know _what_. And he didn't deal well with uncertainty. He wanted something _definite_ before he acted, had to know he was doing the right thing.

Because so often when he _thought _he was doing the right thing, well, he turned out to be wrong. And in this situation, one wrong move might very well doom the whole world. Of course.

The man was still staring at him, so Bruce muttered, "Could you, um. Not stand right there?"

The man took two steps back, hand lowering to his gun.

Right. "Or, you know, do whatever you want."

At least he was out of the plane and could get a look around, albeit only a short one due to the fact that he couldn't see beyond the circle of light cast by their plane. That was enough for him to see that there was another plane nearby, though, something that looked small and fast. That didn't bode well.

He could hear cars in the distance, but he couldn't see any roads from where he was. He didn't know how Loki and his entourage had gotten to where they were going. He'd seen a two track dirt road nearby when the plane had flown in, so maybe they'd driven away, but Bruce didn't know how they'd have a car here.

Well, Loki had a magical spear. Maybe he could just conjure one.

Back on the plane, Bruce found himself growing impatient. What was going on? Why had Loki brought him here, only to leave him behind? What the _hell _was he planning?

One of the goons on the plane had pulled out a laptop and was tapping away at something. A moment later, he said, "SHIELD is looking for him," jerking a thumb in Bruce's direction. "They've got a BOLO out."

Another goon—the one who seemed to be in charge now that Barton was gone—said, "We knew they would be. Has Barton made the pickup yet?"

A few more keystrokes, and the first goon answered, "Looks like it. The door to the facility has been activated. There's a SHIELD quinjet en route to their location, looks like they'll intercept the boss." He did not sound disturbed by this in the least.

"Good," the head goon replied. "Everything's on track, then."

That gave Bruce more than enough to think about. First, SHIELD. He knew a little bit about them—they'd been pretty interested in him, and he liked to keep an eye on people like that—but what he knew wasn't reassuring. But if they were here, maybe they could stop Loki. At least he was a bigger threat than Bruce right now.

But then, there was that second issue. These guys seemed okay with the idea that SHIELD was there to stop Loki. Which meant it was part of the plan? What _was _the plan?

He didn't get it.

Another forty-five minutes passed, and then Barton and the others were back, clomping onto the plane. They did not have Loki with them. Barton barked, "Okay, everyone, first part of the plan is clear. Now we're gonna have to split up. Some of us have gotta get this stuff," he indicated the briefcase in his hand, "To Dr. Selvig in New York. The rest of us are going on to phase 2." He glanced around, eyes alighting on Bruce. "Banner, you're with me." He pointed to a few of his companions. "You guys are headed back to the States."

He handed the briefcase off to one of them, and they exited the plane, heading, presumably, to the other one.

Barton offered exactly zero explanation of where Loki had gone. But the thing about New York...that might be useful later.

But the more pressing issue was that Bruce had no idea where _he_ was going. "And, uh, where are we going?"

Barton answered shortly, "We're picking up some supplies. And some more people. Then we're gonna get to work." He headed up to the front of the plane, apparently unwilling to answer any more questions.

Which was about what Bruce expected, even if he had so many questions in dire need of answering. Where were they going for these supplies? Who were the people? And most importantly, _how? _How had Loki arranged all of this? The plane waiting in the field—someone had put it there. This was all too _organized _to be sudden, to be spur of the moment. Loki may have made his 'invasion' official within the last twenty-four to forty-eight hours, but he'd clearly been working on this, somehow, for much longer. He seemed to have amassed a workforce that spanned several countries, to have worked out the logistics of getting what he needed from anywhere.

And that was worrying. How long had he been planning this? Who was helping him? Not everyone in his little army was mind controlled, Bruce knew that. Most of the people he'd seen, but not all of them. Were there people around the world willingly helping him?

Was Loki really capable of doing all of this on his own? Or was he only working for someone else...someone _more _powerful?

Bruce shook his head. Too many questions, not enough answers.

And he was stuck, watching and waiting and hoping that he could get out of this _somehow_.

* * *

They landed at a base somewhere, though Bruce didn't know where. He'd given up trying to keep track. At the base, they'd picked up supplies—mostly guns, ammunition, and body armor—and, as Barton had promised, some people. Their little aircraft was getting crowded, what with all the people and guns, and Bruce worried about what they were planning to do with all of it.

He didn't have to wait long to find out.

They were in the air, and heading west (or so the direction of the sun seemed to indicate) and Bruce could hear Barton talking to someone on the radio. He glanced up from where he'd been staring at his hands folded in his lap and saw they were approaching...what?

Some kind of giant aircraft. It wasn't just giant, it was...huge. The fact that it could remain in the air at all defied the laws of physics. What the hell?

And then Barton was handing control of the aircraft over to his co-pilot, standing up, and grabbing his bow out of its case. He looked at Bruce. "You ready to go?"

Bruce's heart rate shot up. "Go? Go where?" He'd been almost settled, almost calm, had almost been able to pretend that he wasn't in the middle of some nefarious plan, but now that came crashing down on him. This, whatever it was, was happening _now_.

"We're gonna pick up the boss. And drop this thing," he gestured towards the huge aircraft, "Outta the air." Then he stepped deftly around Bruce and opened the back hatch of the jet. He aimed an arrow at one of the turbines of the huge aircraft, and Bruce thought to himself, _What does he think an arrow's gonna do against something that size?_

Barton fired. And then, a beat later, there was a huge explosion.

_Oh_. _That's what he thinks it's gonna do. Good to know_.

Apparently, arrow technology had come a long way while Bruce had been on the run.

Then, everyone was moving. Their jet was slowing, lowering onto the huge floating base, and Barton was barking orders. People were grabbing their weapons and other gear. Then they were jumping out of the jet and running onto the floating base, looking around, firing at anyone they saw.

Barton turned to Bruce. "Let's go."

"No," Bruce answered, his voice far more even than he thought he could possibly make it. Because he'd just figured out what Loki had meant earlier, by 'guest of honor.' Here he was, on this base, thousands of feet in the air. The people here were helpless, completely unable to get away.

They were trapped. With him.

Barton pulled a gun out of its holster, holding it in his left hand, his bow still clutched in his right. After the shot he'd just made, Bruce didn't think that wielding a gun left handed would impede his aim _at all_.

"Move it," Barton repeated.

"You really don't want to do that," Bruce tried to reason. "You could get hurt. Or anyone on your team."

"Doesn't matter," Barton replied, his expression blank. "As long as the mission's completed. And it will be. Now get off the damn plane."

And even though Barton didn't care if he got hurt, or if the co-pilot kicked it or something, Bruce, annoyingly, _did_. He stood and walked slowly off the aircraft.

As soon as he was clear, it lifted off abruptly, going to hover at a safe distance, away from the chaos erupting on deck. A jet. Hovering. What the hell _was _that thing, anyway?

He didn't get long to think about it.

He'd barely registered that Barton was gone, that he'd just _vanished, _before someone behind him was yelling, "Freeze! Don't move!"

Bruce froze, more out of instinct than out of a desire to follow orders. Then, he turned slowly to face whoever was yelling at him.

It was a man, wearing a blue uniform of some sort, with an eagle insignia on the chest. He was pointing a gun at Bruce, hands shaking. "Don't move!" He repeated.

"Calm down," Bruce advised, though he was pretty far from calm himself. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, knew he had to try to calm down, but having a gun pointed at him _really _didn't help. He took a slow step forward. "Why don't you put the gun do—"

The man fired. His hands were shaking so badly that his aim was off, and instead of hitting him in the chest, the bullet clipped Bruce's thigh.

It _hurt_. A lot.

And...all of his efforts at learning control...none of that had really accounted for someone _shooting _him.

Well.

So much for staying calm.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Review if you're so inclined. I also accept most baked goods in lieu of reviews.**


	4. Bruce Banner Makes a Friend

**Thanks to my awesome beta, irite, for always being fantastic.**

* * *

Bruce always had mixed feelings about regaining consciousness. On the one hand, it meant that whatever had befallen him that had forced his transformation hadn't killed him, and he'd reached a point in his life where he now generally felt like that was a good thing. On the other hand, if he was regaining consciousness, that meant he had to deal with whatever had knocked him out of the driver's seat of his own body.

Oh, and he also had to deal with the repercussions of being knocked out of the driver's seat of his own body. Which were often unpleasant.

So, whenever he was coming back to himself after an 'incident' like the one he'd just had, he liked to take a moment to gather himself, to get some information about where he was and what had happened. You know, before he had to deal with a crazy general or something like that.

At the moment, he felt bruised and over-stretched, and before he even opened his eyes, he knew he was still on whatever crazy aircraft Barton had dropped him off on. He could hear the engines, rumbling somewhere off in the distance. That was a good thing, wasn't it? Barton had wanted to drop this thing out of the air. If they were still flying, that meant that somehow, miraculously, the craft hadn't crashed despite the fact the Other Guy had been on a rampage.

"Gonna stop pretending to be unconscious any time this week, Doctor?" came a deep voice from Bruce's left.

Damn it. He wasn't alone.

But at least he wasn't with Loki. He had been on this aircraft. Was he gone now, or just in custody?

Or dead. Dead was also a possibility.

Bruce cracked his eyes open and saw that he was in a dim room, lying on a cot of some sort. A quick glance revealed that he was wearing some kind of blue uniform that matched what the agent who'd shot him had been wearing. There wasn't much else to see, really, and so he sat up, turning his attention to the speaker.

"Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD," the man introduced himself shortly. "You and your 'friends' nearly took down my base."

"Bruce Banner," Bruce returned anxiously, even though he knew without a doubt that Fury already knew who he was. There weren't many people with his particular 'condition,' after all. They probably had a file on him six inches thick.

Still, Fury nodded. "We need to talk, Banner."

Yeah, Bruce agreed. For one, he was surprised—no, shocked—that he wasn't currently in some kind of detention. He wasn't even in restraints. Given what he'd done—and how he'd ended up here—it seemed kind of lax. Furthermore, he had no idea what had happened or how he had gotten here.

Bruce wasn't sure if he was expected to say anything, or what an appropriate thing to say would even be, and so he tried, "What happened?"

Factually, Fury stated, "A crew of Loki's men attacked. With you. Disabled two engines. We nearly fell out of the sky. Lost a lot of good men. Loki escaped our custody. And then you jumped off the damn base trying to kill a helicopter." He paused. "Had to send an agent down in a jet to get your scrawny ass so we could have this little chat." He paused again. "So let's talk. Care to tell me what the _hell _you're doing here?" He leveled Bruce with a glare.

"Um...Loki." He didn't know where to start. So much had happened. And if he admitted what he had done, what would happen? He had helped Loki. He was guilty.

"Yeah, figured that out on my own when he dropped you off here. My people have been looking for you for the last day. You been with him?"

"Yes, I've been with him." Then, it seemed prudent to point out, "He kinda kidnapped me." As if that made it better.

Fury nodded, though he didn't relax any. "Kinda figured that one out too, Banner. You don't seem like the type to go rogue. And Loki's been kidnapping a lot of people."

Bruce wondered, briefly, what that was supposed to mean, that he didn't seem like the type to go rogue. Then he felt obliged to point out, "Loki didn't brainwash me, director. He couldn't. I know that's what he was doing to the others, but it wouldn't work with me. I just...went with him." He tugged at the too-tight sleeve of his outfit nervously.

Fury frowned. "I see. You were given a choice?"

Bruce could think of a thousand ways he could have done things differently. That was just the way his mind worked. But when it came down to it, Loki probably would have played him no matter what. Any 'choice' he had was an illusion.

Still, he answered, "I...don't know. No. It wasn't much of a choice."

Fury nodded again, but all he said was, "This actually works in our favor. You were cognizant of what was going on around you, weren't you?"

"Yes. Sir." He'd tried to take in as much detail as he could, pretty much for this moment exactly.

"Good. Then you can start by telling me everything you know. We know his endgame is an invasion. What else can you tell me?"

Bruce started talking. He tried not to leave anything out, but he was going quickly, given the gravity of the situation. He made no effort to camouflage his own involvement in what Loki was doing—he figured he'd better be honest about it upfront, in case Fury decided that he actually _was _an official Bad Guy or something. And that the world didn't end or something and that still mattered later.

He finished his explanation with, "They're going to New York. That's where Dr. Selvig is, anyway."

Fury nodded slowly. "I need you to come with me." And then, with no explanation beyond that, he straightened and moved for the door.

After a moment's hesitation, Bruce hopped off the bed and followed him, adjusting his SHIELD-issued suit and wishing desperately, inanely, that he was wearing anything else.

The damage to the base was evident as they walked, Bruce a half-pace behind Fury. There was broken glass and plastic everywhere, and metal panels on the floors and walls were dented and crumpled. Bullet holes riddled the walls, and here and there were splashes of blood that hadn't been cleaned up yet.

The sight made him sick.

But it also brought up the question of how long he'd been out.

"You were only out for about an hour," Fury said brusquely, apparently reading Bruce's mind. "It didn't take my agent long to find you, since one of them managed to tag you with a GPS tracker during the fight."

"...A GPS tracker?" That just struck him as...creepy. "It's gone now, right?"

Fury didn't answer immediately.

"Wouldn't count on it," came a flippant voice from behind him. "You think that's bad, though," it went on, "You should have seen your room. Talk about _tactless._"

_Room?_

"Yeah, it was a cage designed to fall out of the base if the occupant got a little rowdy. But, hey, Thor took it for a spin before you got here."

_'Thor?' What the hell?_

_Also, that sounds...horrible. _

_...Effective though._

Fury stopped and sighed. Without looking behind him, he growled, "Stark. What do you need?"

"Dr. Banner. I wouldn't say no to a sandwich, either, but that's probably asking a lot."

Fury turned around, and Bruce followed suit.

"You can't have Banner," Fury said. "I'm taking him into custody."

_Oh._

"Bullshit you are," the man (who Bruce assumed was _the _Tony Stark—Bruce knew enough about current events to know who _he _was) disagreed. "One, he hasn't done anything wrong. Two, I need him. There's something up with the gamma tracking, and I want—"

"Fine, take him," Fury interrupted. "Just get out of my sight."

Well, he'd capitulated easily.

Weird.

"Gladly." And then Stark literally grabbed onto Bruce's sleeve and tugged him past Fury and down a side passage, talking a mile a minute. "That guy's such an asshole. The whole damn world's about to end, but he's too busy trying to, I don't even know, arrest innocent people. If he wants to do that, he can start with Barton." He let go of Bruce's sleeve and held out his hand. "Tony Stark, by the way. Call me Tony."

"Er, Bruce. Banner," Bruce answered.

"Oh, I know. You know, your work on anti-electron collisions is unparalleled. And I'm a huge fan of the way you lose control and turn into an enormous green rage monster." He grinned. "It's _so cool_."

Bruce didn't know what to say. Presumably, while he'd been...not himself...he'd been fighting Tony. Which meant he'd _seen_ what the Other Guy, the monster, was_. _ And yet, Tony didn't seem put off by Bruce or his condition at all. Unaccustomed to people who knew who he was and didn't go running in the other direction, Bruce muttered, "Um. Thanks." Then, before Tony could say anything else, he asked, "What do you need me for, exactly?"

Enthusiastically, or perhaps manically, Tony answered, "I'm trying to track the Tesseract. I was trying to do that before we got, um, interrupted. Didn't finish. Anyway, once we have its location, me and Capsicle are gonna go stop Loki."

He said it like it was going to be so easy.

Also, who was 'Capsicle?'

Tony went on, "You can come too, of course. If you want. I mean, I get it if you don't want to, but someone's gotta do something and we're the only people who can. I'm kinda hoping to get a little more support here, but Fury's got his hands full. Thor's MIA since Loki used SHIELD's little cage to drop him off the Helicarrier, but I think he'll show up eventually. Doesn't seem like the type to just stand by while his batshit little brother takes over the world."

What, exactly, had he missed during his lapse? ...Did he even really want to know?

Probably not.

Tony led Bruce into a fairly compact yet high-tech lab and over to a display. Then he said, "I need help with the gamma tracking. There's something up with the satellites, and—"

"Sorry about the satellites," Bruce interrupted. "That was me. Kind of. Loki needed a way to mask the location of the Tesseract, and I suggested that. Didn't know he could actually do it." He paused, then added, "The Tesseract is in New York. I heard one of Loki's people talking about it."

At 'New York,' Tony's frowned. Deeply. Dramatically. "So, Barton lifted a bunch of iridium from this place in Germany. It's a stabilizing agent, which means it'll stop Loki's new portal from collapsing on itself like the last one did. Which means all Loki really needs is a power source, high density, something to kick start the cube."

Bruce wondered how they knew about Loki's plan. But then, if 'Thor' was walking around somewhere, he probably had some idea what was going on with 'Loki.'

But he had to set aside his concern about all the Norse deities wandering around for a moment. Something had just clicked for him. Something he'd read in the news. "Your new building...it's powered by an arc reactor, isn't it?"

Tony closed his eyes, sighing enormously. "Yes." Then, suddenly ranting, "That son of a bitch. He's going to open his damn portal right above my building. I _just _finished that building." He sighed again, but then straightened his shoulders. "Well, that's that. Guess we have a location." He looked at Bruce. "You're coming, right?"

To be honest, Bruce thought that was a terrible idea. "Um. No. I've caused enough damage for today, and I—"

"Bullshit," Tony interrupted. "We need you. Loki has been running circles around us since he got here. He's infiltrated SHIELD's base, he's kidnapped their scientists, he's been one step ahead of us this whole time. And now this is our last opportunity to stop him. With you, we might have a chance of winning."

"With me, you might all get killed! I already let myself be manipulated by Loki. I already attacked you."

Tony shook his head. "None of what you did with Loki was your fault. Loki's an asshole. You know what he did to Barton, right? You're no different."

"I _am _though," Bruce disagreed. "I wasn't brainwashed."

Tony just rolled his eyes. "Look. Let's not argue about that crap right now. There's a more pressing issue at hand, you might have noticed. We're gonna do this thing because good people have died trying to stop this asshole." He visibly clenched his jaw, and then went on, "People who didn't deserve that. And more good people are gonna die if we don't do anything. So are you in or what?"

Slowly, reluctantly, Bruce gave a miniscule nod. This was, in part, his mess. He'd helped Loki, whether he'd wanted to or not. And now he could try to stop him.

"Great!" Tony exclaimed, clapping him on the shoulder. Which was both completely unexpected and kind of...nice. "I'll find Cap and see if he managed to get Romanoff on our side. I'll send them up your way. But I'm gonna go get changed." He leveled Bruce with a serious look. "The fate of the whole world hangs in the balance, big guy. No pressure."

And then he was gone.

Bruce lingered awkwardly in the lab, looking briefly over the work Tony had been doing. It seemed like, given about ten more minutes, he would have gotten through the satellite issue on his own. It was pretty impressive, considering Tony'd had practically nothing to work with.

This whole situation was overwhelming. In less than two hours, he'd gone from Loki's captive, to Loki's weapon, to SHIELD's captive, to an apparent _superhero_.

Not at all how he'd planned for his day to go, honestly.

About five minutes after Tony left, Steve Rogers—or a perfect copy—walked into the lab. In full Captain America gear.

Bruce knew who Steve Rogers was, because at one point, he'd been trying to replicate the serum that had given Rogers his enhanced abilities (which had led to a whole slew of problems for Bruce) and had thus read the entirety of Rogers's file. Also, the Captain America outfit kind of gave things away.

The thing was, Steve Rogers was supposed to be dead. So Bruce was understandably flustered by meeting him or his doppelganger or whoever.

"Dr. Banner?" Rogers asked, holding out his right hand. "Steve Rogers."

"Er, yes. I mean, I know. I mean. It's nice to meet you." Bruce tentatively reached out to shake the offered hand, and then haltingly added, "Officially, that is." Chances were pretty good they'd already met while he was transformed.

If Rogers was put off by Bruce's alter ego though, he didn't act like it. He just said, "I've got Agents Romanoff and Barton on our side—uh, Barton's back to normal, I guess—and they're getting a quinjet ready. Stark said you're coming with us?"

"I, um, am. Yeah."

Rogers smiled. "We need all the help we can get. Let's go. Stark's gonna meet us there."

Rogers led the way out to the flight deck, which had been heavily damaged. Barton and another agent—Romanoff—were standing next to one of those weird planes, arguing with a pilot.

As they approached, the pilot said, "You guys aren't authorized to be here!"

Romanoff looked like she wanted to say something—and honestly, Bruce respected the pilot for standing up to her, she looked livid—but before she could, Rogers ordered, "Son...just don't."

And that was that. The pilot scampered off, and Barton and Romanoff made their way to the front of the jet. Barton still looked like hell, malnourished and exhausted, but he also looked purposeful. And extremely angry. Not that Bruce blamed him.

Bruce, well accustomed to these aircraft by now, buckled himself into a seat. He looked at Rogers, who was sitting across from him. "Is there a plan?"

Rogers gave a small half smile. "Save the world? I think that's the plan."

Bruce nodded. Well, it looked like this was going to be a _great _opportunity for him to test his control, to test all of the things he'd been working on since 2010. To test the ultimate goal of all the work he'd put in while he'd been in Canada. He thought he could—if he transformed on his own, without being _shot—_manage to keep the Other Guy focused. On task.

Worst case scenario, he was wrong and Loki won.

Yeah, no pressure at all.


	5. Bruce Banner Saves the World

**One last big thanks to my beta, irite.**

**I posted two chapters at once, so make sure you read the chapter before this one if you haven't.**

* * *

The flight from the giant floating base to Stark Tower was unfortunately very short.

So short, in fact, that Bruce didn't even get very much time to consider how enormously stupid his current course of action was. No, he didn't get to waver from his newfound resolve at all. Things were happening so quickly that he didn't get to deliberate, or worry, or anything. He could only move forward.

And that was fine with him, honestly. Right now, he had to look forward. Had to focus on fixing what he had allowed to happen. He'd spent too long deliberating and worrying, and look at all the good it had done. No, now it was time to focus on the future.

As short as it was, though, the trip to Manhattan was not short enough. By the time they got there, there was already a portal open above the building, pouring...thousands of some kind of creature into Manhattan.

Bruce looked up at it in awe. He'd never even imagined something like this being possible. Even after reading Dr. Foster's papers, he'd thought that this kind of construct was still years, if not decades, in the future. And yet here it was in front of him, mocking everything he thought he'd known about physics.

"Stark," Romanoff said into her headset, interrupting Bruce's reverie. "We're heading northeast."

Bruce didn't hear Tony's reply, but a moment later they were banking around towards Stark Tower. Out of the front of what Rogers had called a 'quinjet,' the Tower came into focus. And atop the building, there were two men fighting.

One, Bruce clearly recognized as Loki. He'd never forget that face. Or that outfit. And the other, well, Bruce assumed that was the elusive 'Thor.' Looked like he'd shown up after all, like Tony had thought he would.

Bruce wondered, briefly, what else Tony may have been right about, before he focused on the scene in front of him.

Thor was huge and seemed to be holding up against Loki fairly well in their fight, which was impressive. Especially given the fact Loki had a magic spear that he was using to fire blasts of energy at Thor.

Thor didn't seem to perturbed by that, though. If anything, he seemed to be holding back, trying only to disarm Loki. To Bruce, that spoke volumes about their relationship.

As Bruce watched, Loki fired a blast at Thor, and, taken by surprise, it knocked Thor's feet out from under him. He went skidding across the balcony they were fighting on, and Loki looked up, then, towards the approaching quinjet.

A moment later, Barton was firing the plane's guns at Loki and Loki was firing back. The guns aboard the quinjet did little to faze Loki, but the blast of energy that Loki fired from his spear had a rather alarming effect on the quinjet. Alarms began shrieking as the blast impacted, and Barton muttered a terse, "Damn it. We're gonna go down."

His calm tone was deceptive, but the way he began flicking switches and pulling levers was decidedly more telling, as was the tense look Romanoff shot him.

_Going down?_

Bruce concluded that a plane crash would likely hinder his goal of staying in control. And that was central. He had to stay in control, had to make sure he could keep the Other Guy focused. Bruce took a good half-second to think about it all, to weigh his options. Then he made his decision. This was, after all, not the time to deliberate. That's what he'd been doing for the last few days, and it had gotten him nowhere. Now, it was time to act.

And this wouldn't be the first time he'd jumped out of an aircraft, after all. This one, at least, was a _lot _closer to the ground.

Bruce quickly looked over at Captain Rogers, who was eying him cautiously. The idea of a plane crash didn't seem to be throwing him too much. But then, Bruce supposed, it was probably kind of familiar to him. As awful as it was, Rogers had already survived a plane crash, or so he'd explained briefly as the quinjet left the SHIELD base. What was one more, especially if the world was ending?

"Banner?" Rogers asked. "You got this?"

Bruce figured he meant 'is this going to make your ugly green side come out' but was too polite to say it in exactly those words.

"Yeah," Bruce answered. "I've got this." Then, he unfastened his seat belt and attempted to stand. The quinjet had begun to spin lazily, though, as Barton did his best to guide it gently to the ground, and it took him a second to get his balance. When he'd gotten to his feet, he called calmly, "Open the back."

To his credit, Barton did as he was asked without question. Whether it was because he was too busy trying not to crash the plane into a building or because he trusted Bruce to know what he needed to do, Bruce wasn't sure. And he wasn't going to ask.

"Dr. Banner?" Rogers asked. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to do this my way," Bruce answered, making his way towards the back of the plane and trying very hard not to think. "You need the Other Guy, and I need to keep him under control. This is the only way it can happen."

"But...you're not angry."

Bruce snorted a tiny laugh. He'd been having one hell of a week. One hell of a life, honestly. And at this point, he knew one thing for certain. "Captain," Bruce said, hanging onto the back of a seat to remain upright as the jet spun idly through the air, "I'm always angry."

Then, he jumped out of the back of the plane.

By that point, they were only a few hundred feet above ground—Barton had maneuvered the plane to keep their descent as slow as possible—and that gave Bruce a few seconds in which he could consider exactly how bad this idea really was.

But he was _done _worrying, done over-thinking, and he pushed those thoughts away and focused. Because he had to do this _before _he hit the ground. It had to be _his _choice.

There's nothing like trying to find something buried deep inside of yourself while plummeting towards the earth, but Bruce knew he could do it. Failure was not an option.

And so he reached inside himself for that white hot spark of anger that he knew was there.

He latched onto it, and his world went green.

* * *

_Battle. Lots to smash. Flying things. Need to stop them. Work with lightning man._

_Get the insect men. Leave the people._

_Fight._

_Cornered. Pain._

_Swarm of insect men with guns. Hurts._

_Smash._

_Inside. Where? No idea. Need to go, need to fight._

_But. Someone's here._

_It's Him._

_Loki. Loki tried to control Hulk. Loki used Hulk to hurt people._

_Rage._

_Loki is small, weak. Not like a human, but close._

_Leave him on the ground. He won't move._

_Back to the battle. _

* * *

"So, do you want shawarma? 'Cause I want shawarma."

"I don't think _anyone _wants shawarma."

"Shut up, Rogers. We're getting shawarma. As soon as Banner wakes up."

Bruce, as it turned out, did not want to wake up. He was stiff and sore and tired and—

Oh yeah. Alien invasion. Loki. Tesseract. And these people talking around him? Probably the people he'd just saved the world with.

Well. Bruce knew better than to assume. Barely conscious, he croaked, "We won, right? Aliens are gone?"

"Yeah, we won," came Tony's voice. "You don't remember?"

Bruce groaned and sat up slowly, ignoring the way his joints popped as he moved. As he did so, he was surprised to find that, actually, to some extent, he _did _remember. It was hazy at best, and largely incoherent, but there was _something _occupying that space in his memory.

He remembered anger, of course; his mind had encoded that in vibrant shades of green. He remembered something big, too, something...flying. A ship? No, not quite. Whatever it was, he was fairly sure he'd destroyed it.

And Loki...there was something about Loki, too.

But what?

With a groan, Bruce cracked his eyes open and sat up. He was on a couch in what seemed to be some kind of apartment. One wall was windows, and most of them were broken. There was a huge crater in the floor.

"This your tower?" Bruce asked, chasing the residue of a memory. It seemed...familiar, somehow.

_Puny god_...

"Yeah," Tony answered. He'd ditched the Iron Man suit in favor of jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt, and he was lounging on a nearby chair, resting his legs on what had once been an ottoman but had now mostly been reduced to rubble.

It occurred to Bruce then to check and see if _he _was dressed. Mercifully, it seemed like the SHIELD-issued pants he'd been wearing were extraordinarily stretchy, and enough of them had survived to preserve his modesty. That was a relief. Generally, he preferred if people _didn't _see him naked, at least while he was unconscious.

That particular action reminded him of the other thing he had to ask. "And, uh, did I..."

"You were great," Rogers stepped in. "I don't think we could have won without you."

Bruce let that sink in for a minute, frantically scanning his memories. There wasn't a lot there, but he _thought_ he remembered trying to stay away from people. That seemed too good to be true, though. He asked "Really?"

"Yeah, really," Tony said. "Didn't I say you'd be great?"

"...No."

"Oh. Well, I meant to. Anyway," Tony prompted again. "Shawarma?"

Rogers, who'd turned to look out a hole in the wall that had once been a window, chided, "Lay off, will you?"

As it turned out, though, Bruce was starving. And he happened to love shawarma, though he couldn't figure out why Tony was so fixated on it. "No, it sounds good. I, uh, wouldn't mind some more clothes, though."

It somehow didn't feel awkward at all asking, as if saving the world had eliminated any of the social tension generated by the fact he was nearly naked and needed to borrow a stranger's clothes.

"Sure," Tony answered easily. "I've got just the thing. I'm thinking...green." He stood up and bounced away.

Bruce wondered where Tony's energy was coming from. Adrenaline, maybe. Probably. Or caffeine.

He took the opportunity to look around a little bit. Barton and Romanoff had not, to Bruce's surprise, left. He'd figured that, as SHIELD agents, they'd be needed back at base. Apparently, that wasn't the case. They were talking quietly to each other several yards away, near Tony's bar. Thor was still present as well, sitting in a chair and staring moodily at his hands folded in his lap. Rogers was by his window. None of them, it seemed, had bothered to shuck their gear yet.

"How long was I out?" Bruce asked, trying to find a clock that worked. He was unsuccessful.

"About an hour," Romanoff answered brusquely. "SHIELD came and took Loki in for questioning. But they want us to lay low for a little while."

Huh. SHIELD had taken Loki in, but had left him behind. Apparently, Fury had chosen to overlook Bruce's role in all of this, despite his earlier attempt to take Bruce into custody.

Of course...maybe that had been the director's intention all along. Maybe he'd just been trying to steer Bruce towards doing what he wanted him to do, had never intended to arrest him.

But that was too much to think about today. Or maybe ever. Because that would meant that Fury had been manipulating not only him, but Tony, too, and probably everyone…

Yeah, he wasn't going to think about it. Bruce just raised one tired eyebrow. "...And going for shawarma fits that description?"

Romanoff's only response was a shrug.

Tony reappeared a few minutes later with clothing that was blessedly not green, and Bruce went to get changed. When he came back, everyone else was standing in an awkward half-circle waiting for him.

"So, uh, Dr. Banner," Rogers started, rubbing the back of his neck. "This is Thor," he said abruptly, gesturing towards the huge blond guy. "And I don't think you ever got formally introduced to Agent Romanoff," he added, indicating Romanoff, "Or Barton."

Apparently, Rogers was going to ignore the whole Bruce and Barton had been 'working together' for Loki thing. That was fine. Bruce gave a small wave and a mumbled, "Hello."

Thor nodded, then stepped forward. "I would like to apologize formally for what my brother has done. I assure you that his actions towards you will not go unpunished."

Bruce hadn't really been thinking about that—what Loki had done to Manhattan seemed a little more pressing that what Loki had done to Bruce—but he appreciated the sentiment. He replied, "Um. Thanks. I think."

"Great, introductions are out of the way," Tony announced, striding towards the elevator that (Bruce hoped) was still functioning. "Let's go get some damn food already, geez. I can't believe I almost died on an empty stomach."

Bruce blinked, but decided to let that go. It seemed like Tony was prone to exaggeration, and categorizing the battle as a near-death experience fit that.

Conversation was sparse over lunch-slash-dinner, consisting largely of grunts. As it turned out, saving the world burned a lot of calories that required replenishing. Or maybe everyone was just too tired to utilize their jaw muscles for speaking.

It wasn't until everyone had just about finished that someone broached the topic of 'what now.' It was, in fact, Tony, and he did it by saying, "What now?"

"We're gonna have to deal with Loki," Rogers said. He looked at Thor. "You got any ideas about that?"

"My brother will be charged for his crimes in our realm. He must pay first for what he has done to our people." He offered no further details on what that was, and Bruce found that he didn't particularly want to know.

He'd had about enough of Loki.

"Good luck selling that to Fury," Romanoff muttered. "He's gonna want Loki to stay here." Then, to Barton, "Get your damn leg off my chair, I want to stand up."

Barton frowned but did as he was asked. He didn't seem overly inclined to argue with Romanoff, but Bruce didn't know if that was their normal relationship dynamic or if it had more to do with recent events.

Rogers ignored their exchange, instead observing, "There were more people than just Loki at play here. We have a lot of cleaning up to do. Literal and metaphorical."

At that, Bruce frowned. He couldn't forget that he'd been one of those people. He'd helped Loki, and—

"Dr. Banner's already spoken to Fury about that," Romanoff said, stretching. "The director's got teams looking into the connections Loki made long before he launched his attack."

She said nothing at all about Bruce's role in anything.

And that was that. No one else had anything to say about Bruce's part in what had happened, either. They all had to know—they'd been on the Helicarrier, as the SHIELD base was apparently called, when Loki had attacked—and the Other Guy wasn't exactly subtle or stealthy. And yet, no one seemed to bear him any ill will for what had happened.

Maybe what Tony had said earlier, on the Helicarrier, was true. Maybe what had happened...wasn't his fault. Maybe no one thought it was.

That was...different. And for the first time, Bruce let himself feel, just a little bit, that he'd actually done something right. The thing with Loki, he hadn't handled that well. But he'd managed to control the Other Guy, had helped save the world, was, as ridiculous as it sounded, a 'hero.'

Him. A hero.

The next person to speak was Tony, and all he said was, "So, Bruce, you wanna crash at my place for a few days? I've gotta have a spare room somewhere that didn't get blown up or something. And I kinda owe you one."

To be honest, Bruce wanted to hop on a plane and get away from here as fast as he could. Before Fury or someone else remembered that he was Loki's accomplice. But there probably wasn't going to be any planes flying for a while, and maybe it was better if he stuck around, in case he needed to explain more about what he knew or what he'd done. It looked like SHIELD wasn't going to go after him, and maybe he could help catch the actual bad guys.

So he answered, "Uh. Sure. If you don't mind." Then the second part of what Tony had said registered. "What do you mean, you owe me one?" Maybe there had been something to what Tony said earlier, about nearly dying...

Tony reached over and clapped Bruce on the shoulder. "Let's just say that your alter ego plays a mean game of catch. Anyway, I wouldn't offer if I minded. Besides, I've always wanted a pet physicist. Now I just gotta convince Pepper that we need to keep you."

Bruce wondered, then, what, exactly, he was signing up for.

In the last few days he'd been a pawn, a monster, and a hero.

What was next? Friend?

* * *

The Battle of Manhattan, as it would later be called, had been brief.

Brief, yes, but not without its cost. Hundreds of lives were lost during the battle, and billions of dollars in property damage were racked up in the space of an hour.

But everyone agreed it could have been worse.

Much worse.

After a semblance of order was restored, stories began pouring out of the city. They differed greatly, from people who hadn't actually witnessed the attacks to people who had supposedly been saved by one of the good guys in a bank. What they agreed on, though, was that a few people took a stand to put an end to what the media was terming Loki's Army before it could gain a foothold on Earth. There was Iron Man, of course, and Captain America, looking like someone dug him straight out of the 1940s. There was the guy everyone was calling Thor (the hammer and the lightning gave it away), and a pair of highly-trained combatants that no one could identify, no matter how many tabloids later tried.

But the one that really surprised people was Hulk. The creature who'd been credited with nearly destroying Harlem only a few years before made a comeback, this time to save the city. And without him, it was largely agreed in the weeks following the attack, Manhattan would have crumbled before the invasion.

They were the city's saviours, the team heralded as heroes. As the united front that had saved the entirety of humanity from subjugation and probably death.

And no one knew how near they had come to being one crucial element short.

* * *

It took two days for SHIELD to finish up with Loki and for Thor to arrange for his brother's deportation back to Asgard. Agent Romanoff had been right, of course. Fury was reluctant to send Loki off to some unknown place, but Thor was very convincing. And really, who was stupid enough to argue with a god?

For those two days, Bruce worked frantically.

Between him and Selvig, who remembered a fair amount of what the Tesseract had 'told' him, they managed to construct a device capable of holding the cube and focusing its energy.

Tony was fairly helpful in that endeavor, as well, donating the resources of his R&D department which were, largely, unharmed and helping them with the specs of their design.

Bruce, Tony, and Selvig brought the device to the location that Tony had received via text message the night before, and there they found the rest of the team.

And Loki. In handcuffs and muzzled.

Which, to Bruce, was extraordinarily satisfying.

When Loki saw Bruce, he narrowed his eyes in a way that abruptly made Bruce's feeling of satisfaction shrivel up. It was _not _a friendly look. It practically screamed 'this isn't over,' and Bruce knew that Loki was conniving and clever enough that he might very well make a comeback.

But for the moment, Loki was contained, and Bruce wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Besides, the unfriendly look on Loki's face paled in comparison to the glare that Barton was shooting the demigod's way. Barton's sunglasses did little to hide his vitriol. Loki looked at Barton, smirk evident even beneath the muzzle, and for a moment, Bruce worried that Barton might just deck Loki right in the mouth, muzzle or not.

Then Romanoff whispered something in his ear, and Barton relaxed immediately, his frown turning into a small, smug smile.

Thor, apparently realizing that his brother was vastly overstaying his welcome, took the device that Bruce and Tony offered him, and Loki reluctantly took the other handle. Thor twisted his handle and then the two of them were gone, leaving Bruce with about a thousand pages worth of experimental write-up that he needed to do.

He looked over at Tony, who shrugged and jerked his head back towards his car, so everyone said their goodbyes and slowly splintered off in various directions, a SHIELD agent stepping forward to assist Selvig, who hadn't been looking well. Bruce made a mental note to check up on him in a few days.

Tony and Bruce walked in silence, at least until they were both in Tony's car, at which point Tony said, "We are going to copyright the _shit _out of that design. I don't know if it's ever gonna be useful again, but damn. Interdimensional travel, man."

Bruce nodded. "Yeah, but...if they took that thing to wherever...couldn't they use it to come back?"

Tony glanced over at Bruce. "You're a little ray of sunshine, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Sorry. Worrying...kinda comes with the territory." He shrugged. "Loki's gone, that's what matters, right?"

"Right," Tony agreed. "I bet it's gonna be like, ten years before someone tries to take over the world again."

"Ten years? And _I'm _the ray of sunshine?" Bruce replied.

Tony shrugged. "It's only a matter of time, don't you think?"

"Probably. And the kind of tech we're dabbling in...seems like anything is possible these days." Bruce frowned.

"But at least there's 'the Avengers' now, right?" Tony said, glancing over at Bruce and raising an eyebrow. "One hell of a team."

That was true. Things might be getting crazier, and someone might get it in their mind to take over the world, and Loki might very well decide to come back and finish what he'd started, but...for the time being, at least, the world was defended.

And he, Bruce Banner, awkward physicist slash green rage monster, was part of the team charged with Earth's defense.

He never would have seen that coming. It wouldn't have happened at all if not for Loki.

_Maybe_, Bruce thought, _these things happen for a reason_.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Please excuse my sappy ending. Leave a review if you want.**


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